


dying to taste this sick sweet warmth

by voxofthevoid



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blindfolds, Cock Cages, Double Penetration, Face Slapping, Gags, Gangbang, Hair-pulling, M/M, Painful Sex, Prayer Circle for Bucky's Asshole, Rape Fantasy, Restraints, Rough Sex, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: “Well?” Steve, the same Steve as before, asks. “What do you think?”The hand in Bucky’s hair slides down the side of his neck and along the slope of his shoulder, following a natural path down his left arm. Shuri’s tech is a blessing and a curse; even through the metal, Bucky’s excruciatingly aware of the warmth and pressure of Steve’s touch—another Steve, this one, not his, except they’re all his in a way but especially today, in this room.Steve’s fingers briefly clasp Bucky’s shackled wrist before coming to rest on the small of his back.A hand traces the tight stretch of his lips around the gag, and yet another strokes gentle knuckles along the swell of his cheeks, idly brushing the edges of the blindfold. Four heartbeats, all around Bucky.“Pretty,” says a voice that’s too far away to be any of the Steves touching Bucky. “Could just eat him up.”-When interdimensional slips give you four versions of Steve Rogers, what’s a Bucky Barnes to do?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers
Comments: 101
Kudos: 497





	dying to taste this sick sweet warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jesuisgrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisgrace/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Аж слюнки текут](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29653377) by [avadakedavra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avadakedavra/pseuds/avadakedavra), [WTF Bucky Bottom 2021 (WTF_Bucky_Bottom_2021)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Bucky_Bottom_2021/pseuds/WTF%20Bucky%20Bottom%202021)



> For my one and only Jesus. Friend, I know this is very random, but you did mention an orgy fic to me in passing. This isn’t quite that, but I show my love through fic with gratuitous porn. Thank you for being one of my brightest spots in fandom in 2020 <3
> 
> As for the fic—this is just porn porn porn. All the negotiation and aftercare take place offscreen. The fic only contains the sex. I am on brand for the new year, folks.

Bucky has lost track of how long it’s been.

Can’t be more than an hour, he knows. Barely even that. But it feels like more. Feels like an entire eternity. He’s painfully aware of his body—every breath he’s taking, the rise and fall of his chest, the shivers he can’t quite hide. And he never stops listening for it, that steady second heartbeat in the room.

He stops breathing when that heartbeat doubles, another body slipping into the room.

A moment later, it doubles again.

Bucky’s own heart is pounding in his chest. He can’t see. He can’t talk. He can move, awkward and squirming, but he’s not allowed to. All he can do is wait.

He waits.

He can hear them approach, feel their warmth. He knows they’ll touch him, but he doesn’t know where or how, and when it comes, his yelp is neatly muffled by the ball gag stuffed in his mouth.

“Ssh,” Steve says anyway. Bucky’s Steve, he thinks. He’d be sure if he could _see_. “Easy.”

Steve strokes his flank again, and Bucky doesn’t make a sound this time. That rough palm slides up his side, gentle at first, almost ticklish, before fingers dig sharply into the taut muscles of his right shoulder. It’s all the warning Bucky gets before he’s roughly yanked forward.

He manages, somehow, to not fall off the bed. He still hits the ground hard on his knees, the impact a harsh throb shuddering up his thighs. Fingers slide into his hair, and they’re comforting for a second, but then the grip tightens and pulls, and tears soak into Bucky’s blindfold as he’s forced to his feet.

“Well?” Steve, the same Steve as before, asks. “What do you think?”

The hand in Bucky’s hair slides down the side of his neck and along the slope of his shoulder, following a natural path down his left arm. Shuri’s tech is a blessing and a curse; even through the metal, Bucky’s excruciatingly aware of the warmth and pressure of Steve’s touch—another Steve, this one, not his, except they’re all his in a way but especially today, in this room.

Steve’s fingers briefly clasp Bucky’s shackled wrist before coming to rest on the small of his back.

A hand traces the tight stretch of his lips around the gag, and yet another strokes gentle knuckles along the swell of his cheeks, idly brushing the edges of the blindfold. Four heartbeats, all around Bucky.

“Pretty,” says a voice that’s too far away to be any of the Steves touching Bucky. “Could just eat him up.”

“He’s always a treat.” Closer this time. The finger resting against the side of his lips taps lightly. “But he’s all plugged up. Ain’t much use this way.”

“Don’t be crass,” says the first Steve. “And he’s got plenty of use in him.”

“True.” Behind Bucky. Nails digging into his back, then fingers sliding down his crack with unmistakable intent. “Points for presentation.”

“Thank you.”

And that’s him, Bucky knows by that dry, cutting tone; Bucky’s Steve, the first Steve, and they named all of them, distinct yet familiar, but Bucky finds that he can’t remember anything but a dazed litany of _SteveSteveSteve_ —

One wraps a hand around Bucky’s caged cock, his palm searing through the metallic circles. Bucky’s whimper dies in his mouth, but he can’t keep quiet when the Steve behind him grabs the base of the plug and gives it a deliberate tug. It doesn’t even slide out, just shifts inside of him, pressing in _everywhere_ , and Bucky realizes belatedly that he’s shaking, held up only by the teasing touches on him and the unspoken demands in the air.

Bucky wants to beg, but his words are leashed in his throat.

Steve pulls the plug out.

It’s sharp, sudden, the emptiness maddening. Before Bucky can even make a sound, he’s lifted by the thighs, the Steve behind him hoisting him up effortlessly. It’s pitiful, the noise that escapes when his scream is filtered through the gag, but the Steves seem appreciative, though that could just be for the sight of Bucky dangling and spread wide, his twitching hole obscenely on display.

Fingers probe at his gaping rim, the tips sliding in to tug it cruelly wider. Bucky keens through the gag, but it’s futile, his wordless pleas ignored as more hands than he can count stroke and grab his body, sliding over sweat-slick skin, their grip sweet and bruising in turns.

“He’s open enough,” a Steve says, the fingers on Bucky’s rim giving another sharp tug. “Go on.”

 _No_ , Bucky tries to say, but it’s just noise to them, and there’s nothing gentle about the bulky body that shoves its way between his legs, pressing hard and hot against the sensitive insides of his spread thighs.

He tries to move, doesn’t mean to but has to, desperate to squirm away from the slick press of a cockhead, but there’s no give to the body behind him and no mercy in the man between his legs. Another pair of hands slide under his legs, settling snugly under the crook of his knees, and the Steve that hoisted him up shifts his grip to lay arms like iron bars across Bucky’s straining torso.

“There’s a sight,” says a Steve, farther away, and then it’s all white static, blood rushing to Bucky’s ears with the brutal plunge of that cock into him.

The plug was big, long and tapered and almost wider than he could take, but Steve’s _worse_ , blood-hot where the metal was cool, slamming so deep that Bucky chokes on it. It fills him right up, pressing in on all the hollow parts of him until they’re full to bursting, and then pressing some more, grinding in good and deep like he can pry Bucky open wider, deeper with a few, clever twists of his hips.

Bucky sucks in harsh, desperate breaths, clenching helplessly around Steve’s cock, but that just seems to egg him on, dirty grinds turning into harsh thrusts that chase an end than any lasting pleasure. It’s a relief when Steve comes, spilling hot inside Bucky with a quiet, gut-deep groan.

Someone laughs.

“That didn’t take long,” he says.

“Fuck off,” comes the response, accompanied by warm come down Bucky’s ass as Steve slips out. “He’s fucking tight. See how long you last.”

It’s not harmless ribbing. There are other hands on him now, large and rough, two on each leg to keep them up and spread. The Steve behind Bucky barely shifts, his chest moving with deep, even breaths against Bucky’s back. The body between Bucky’s legs is replaced by another, just as wide and hot, and this Steve runs a proprietary hand up Bucky’s inner thigh, tracing the sensitive skin all the way to where’s wet and loose. His thumb slides in to the first knuckle and hooks over the edge, pulling Bucky’s rim open as if to empty him out.

Bucky shakes his head.

“Hey there,” says the Steve in front of him. “It’s alright, I’ll be gentle.”

His voice is quiet, but there’s laughter in it. He won’t be gentle. Bucky tries, again, to squirm away, but the Steve holding him doesn’t budge and the hands on his thighs tighten their grip, and Bucky subsides with a whimper.

The finger inside him slides out, replaced in the span of a breath by the blunt head of a cock.

 _Please_ ; it’s a stifled whimper, more sound than word, and it goes ignored but not unheard. Teeth sink into his shoulder and bruises are carved into his thighs and the cock teasing him slides deep with a wet, squelching sound.

Bucky wants to scream. His blindfold’s wet.

“God,” Steve says, breath falling on Bucky’s cheek. “The way you feel, honey.”

Despite everything, the endearment warms Bucky to the bone. He can feel it on his cheeks, his neck, seeping like a drug into his veins. Chapped lips press to the edge of his stretched lip and drag up his face, teeth nipping playfully at his burning cheek.

“Look at that,” says a Steve from the side. “He’s cute when he’s blushing.”

Bucky’s flailing dignity twinges weakly at that. Then Steve seems to remember that he’s balls-deep in Bucky and starts to do something about it, and Bucky helplessly forgoes dignity for even a scrap of relief. It feels good, it always feels good, but the pleasure’s got too much teeth, digging barbed hooks into Bucky’s walls with each slick slide of Steve’s cock. And he’s held up off the floor, bound and gagged, and he’s got no voice, no leverage, just a body that’s only half in his control. He tries anyway, squirming and whining through the gag, but all that gets him is Steve drilling into him, hips slamming fast and frantic like he wants to crawl into Bucky and break him.

He lasts longer than the first Steve, but not by much. Bucky goes tight all over as he’s filled again, come drenching him and dripping out. It’s a maddening sensation, the warm trickle over it along his crack, but there’s no relief in his desperate attempts to squirm away.

“I want him on the bed.” It’s the Steve behind him, kissing Bucky’s neck and shoulders idly between words. “Better view.”

“This view’s perfectly nice,” says the one who just finished, voice low and hoarse from his orgasm. “But yeah. Bed.”

They don’t carry him to bed; Bucky doesn’t know whether that would have been any more humiliating than the way he’s set on the floor and pushed and prodded toward the bed, a hand in his hair or on his shoulder straightening him whenever he stumbles.

He stumbles often.

He’s grateful when he collapses face-first on the bed, but of course, that’s not enough. They drag him bodily to the center, their touches as rough as they’re possessive. He’s told to raise his ass, and he tries, he _does_ , but either he’s too slow with his arms bound or he was never going to be fast enough, because he’s yanked up by the hair, the long length of it fisted in an unforgiving hand. His torso aches with the strain of holding himself up without his arms to take the weight.

There’s wetness on his cheeks now, tears slipping even past the absorbent fabric of his blindfold.

“I missed this,” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t know which one this is, he’s lost track, but it’s not his Steve, who’s been silent since they started fucking Bucky.

“Missed what?” asks another. “His hair?”

“Mmhm. My Buck cut it short. Says he wanted a change. It’s hot as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but less to pull.”

“A tragedy,” comes the reply, dry but also somehow sincere. The speaker is behind Bucky. Fingers grip his ass and slide down to his thighs, groping them roughly before pushing them wider. Bucky is hyperaware of his hole, wet and used, gaping hungrily despite his best efforts.

The first thrust threatens to send him crashing to the mattress, knees buckling, but the hand is his hair is as merciless as the ones on his hips, and Bucky’s kept there, gasping for air and burning everywhere as Steve fucks brutally into him from behind. He’s not tight anymore, fucked open and forced loose, but then Steve angles his thrusts to slide along Bucky’s prostate, and he’s clenching up with a stifled howl, arms twisting in their bonds.

“Behave,” says Bucky’s Steve, a soft warning accompanied by fingers brushing lightly over the tears on his face. Bucky lets out a sobbing breath and tries not to fight it. “That’s my guy. Knew you could take it.”

The quiet pride in Steve’s voice slithers down his spine, warm and liquid, and Bucky wants so bad to be worthy of it, but it’s hard not to struggle when he’s being touched and fucked and used, hands and cock sliding on him, _in_ him, without a care for anything but their own damning pleasure. Steve’s fingers dig bruisingly into his cheeks for a moment before he lets go entirely, and Bucky’s left reeling from their absence and choking on the rough thrusts rocking him.

“Close,” grunts the Steve fucking him. He squeezes Bucky’s ass and slaps the flesh, grunting when Bucky jolts at the pain. “Christ, that’s it, that’s good, so fucking—”

Bucky keens when he comes, the sound drowned out by Steve’s shattered shout. He ruts into Bucky through his orgasm, fucking his come back into Bucky, and it’s loud and wet and messy, and Bucky sobs, helpless not to clutch weakly at the cock sliding along his aching walls.

Steve slides out and leaves behind a mess, and Bucky wants to just sink into the mattress and breathe, but he’s not allowed. This isn’t about him; it’s about them.

“I think I’ll take his mouth,” says a Steve.

Another one hums.

“That didn’t take long.”

“Serum’s gotta be good for something.”

“Yeah, this is exactly what Erskine had in mind.”

“Hey now, I like to think he’d approve.”

Bucky loses track of the voices. They’re the same, yet not, and it’s crazy, this whole thing is crazy, and he thought he was used to it, but he’s not, not when they’re here like this, surrounding him with their warmth and searing his flesh with their heat.

Long fingers wrap around Bucky’s throat, gentle save for the threat inherent in the touch.

“Buck,” says Steve, _Bucky’s_ Steve. “You with us?”

Bucky whines. Steve’s hand tightens.

“Nod, sweetheart.”

It’s hard, with a hand in his hair and another on his throat, when Bucky’s core is tight with the effort it’s taking to stay like this. But Steve’s asking, demanding, and Bucky can’t not give him what he wants.

He nods.

Steve’s thumb slides along his jaw, briefly brushing Bucky’s mouth.

“That’s good. I’m going to fuck you now. And I’m going to take off the gag. Behave.”

Steve lets go of his throat. Bucky behaves.

Spit runs down his chin when the gag comes off. Bucky gasps gratefully, working his aching jaw in search of some relief. What he gets, instead, is a finger sliding between his lips and hooking behind his teeth, tugging his mouth wide open all over again.

He opens obediently, flattening his tongue and curling his lips over his teeth, and someone murmurs praise before a cock starts sliding into his mouth. Bucky’s distantly aware of movement on the bed, the Steves shifting this way and that, but he’s lost all too soon to the weight on his tongue. Steve fucks his mouth with shallow thrusts, barely hitting the back of his throat, and it’s nice, almost relaxing after what he’s had so far. Bucky works it as best as he can, hollowing his cheeks and laving his tongue along the underside. He prefers this over the merciless stretch of a gag, likes the heat and the taste, likes the huge hands framing his face and stroking his eyes over the blindfold.

Steve warned him, but it still startles him, the cock sliding along his hole, the long, hot length of it teasing the cheeks of his ass.

It fills him in a single thrust, and Bucky chokes on the Steve in his mouth.

“Fuck, look at that.”

It’s neither of the Steves fucking Bucky who says it. The words make him burn, pleasure blending with something sharper, hotter. Bucky tries in vain to twitch away, but there’s no mercy to be found in the men on either side of him. His Steve slaps his ass and fucks into him, and as if on cue, the one fucking Bucky’s mouth hits the back of his throat and doesn’t back off, thrusting down his throat, stifling Bucky’s cries.

There’s an instant of utter stillness. Bucky’s suspended between two warm bodies, speared on their cocks, and the words of a third is ringing in his ears, making his mind fixate on the image he must make, trussed up like a sacrifice, sweaty and red and well used.

His cock’s a sad slip of a thing in its cage, and it hurts, his _balls_ hurt, and all Bucky can do it whine and try not to choke on the cock down his throat.

They start to fuck him, and there’s no build-up, nothing slow or sweet, just the pair of them ramming deep in eerie synchronicity, Bucky trembling and keening and crying between them.

There’s a mouth on him, kissing up his shoulder and biting at his throat, and there are hands pinching his nipples, twisting the little buds between cruel fingers and tugging hard, flicking and rubbing at the ache of them. Bucky’s drowning in sensation, in hands and mouths and cocks, and he can’t even scream when nails scrape his skin or when his prostate flares in sharp need or when his throat turns dry and raw. He just takes it, shakes with it, whining and sobbing, mad with pleasure so stark, it’s mostly pain.

He could come, he would, but he can’t, and that hurts too, constant and piercing. He would beg, too, but he’s got a cock weighing down his tongue and ramming into his throat, and all he can speak with is his burning, bruised body, and its pleas go ignored.

The one in his mouth comes first, spilling over without warning, and Bucky gags and chokes, swallowing some as the rest joins the mess congealing on his chin and neck. Steve swears and slides his softening cock over Bucky’s tongue, a velvet-smooth slide that makes his gut clench. His Steve’s still fucking his ass, silent and violent, and it rocks Bucky with every thrust, forcing him on to the cock in his mouth until the whole, soft length of it is on his tongue and his nose is buried in the thatch of curls at the base. Each breath fills Bucky with the musky scent of it. He whines and chokes and drags it deeper, trembling and helpless.

Steve’s the one who pulls out, gasping wildly like he’s the one being tormented.

“Please,” Bucky says, half stunned to hear himself form actual words. “Come on, Steve, please, please—”

Steve slaps his ass, a warning louder than any words, and Bucky subsides into shocked, helpless whimpering. Nails dig harshly into the red-hot handprint, and Bucky screams, loud and unfettered, but it shatters into gasping whines when Steve drives in deep and comes.

He stays there, hips pressed to Bucky’s, filling him up, and Christ, he comes too much, they all come too much, and Bucky’s sopping wet now, drenched and sticky and mad with it.

Steve pulls out, and suddenly, there’s no one touching him. Bucky collapses, half grateful, half forlorn.

A palm slides down his spine and gropes his ass, fingers sinking roughly into the meat of it. Bucky breathes through the lot of them shuffling on the mattress. It’s not done yet, he knows that, but he’s glad for the respite, this moment of rest.

Another cock slides into him. Bucky’s groan is cut off by arms gripping his shoulders and yanking him up, forcing him further down Steve’s cock. His back hits a broad chest, and an instinctive attempt to break free yields nothing but a tighter hold and Steve toppling backwards. His cock slips out of Bucky, but there are hands on him, manhandling him with rough grips, and he’s turned around with his thighs on either side of Steve’s hips, and there’s a cockhead prodding at him, hands on his hips, and Bucky’s shoved _down_.

He barks out a sharp curse.

“Hmm.” It’s one of the Steves behind him, his hands still on Bucky. “How loose is he?”

Bucky makes a protesting noise that’s swallowed by the answer.

“Loose enough, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“We _are_ the same person.”

But Bucky’s not, and he doesn’t get it, not until there are two fingers at his rim, idly tracing how it’s spread around the girth of a cock. The touch is gentle for a second before they just shove in. Bucky screams, but the fingers fuck him through it, thrusting hard and with clear intent, points of burning heat beside Steve’s monster of a cock.

“No, no, no, please, it hurts,” Bucky whines, biting his lip bloody when it earns him nothing but those fingers tearing into him faster. “Steve, I can’t, it hurts, make it stop, _Steve_ —”

“Hush.”

Bucky does hush, whining in protest, and he tries to be quiet, to be good, but when the fingers slide out, a larger, warmer pressure prods at his aching hole and he can’t, he _can’t_ —

“ _Stop_ , Steve—”

Steve shuts him up with his hand gripping Bucky’s face, thumb and forefinger digging into his cheek. Something brushes his folded lips, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s the gag again, not a cock.

Bucky wrests his face free and purses his lips, glaring into the dark.

The blow snaps his head to the side.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Bucky thinks he said that, but no, his mouth’s parted but silent, stunned as his blood roars in his ears. It’s the Steve buried in him—not his Steve, the one that hit him. “That’s—god, do that again.”

Steve does, and Bucky feels it this time, the way he clenches up, ass clamping down hard without meaning too. It’s all a red haze, Bucky’s blood singing while his whole face throbs with the peculiar, pained heat. Steve takes him by the hair and turns his face, the knuckles of his other hand stroking Bucky’s abused cheeks.

“Open your mouth, Buck.”

Bucky opens his mouth.

He’s kissed.

It’s a reward, Bucky knows the moment Steve’s lips touch his. Steve knows what it does to Bucky when he kisses him like this, sweet then dirty then sweet again, and he’s being played like a fiddle, but Bucky doesn’t care, straining towards Steve’s mouth, panting against his lips, whining needily. Steve peppers close-mouthed kisses all along his mouth and jaw, pulling back with a firm, smacking kiss, and when Bucky tries, instinctually, to chase him, he’s stopped with a hand on his throat.

The Steves trying to fuck him have tightened their grips on his hips and shoulders, but it’s the hand curled loosely around his neck that makes Bucky tremble.

When the gag brushes his lips again, Bucky opens up for it. His lower lip stings and his jaw aches when it stretches him wide. Steve makes a soft, hushing noise and fastens it at the back of his head, carefully layering most of Bucky’s hair over it, just like before. He tugs at a loose strand and chuckles when Bucky moans. A kiss is pressed to the edge of his upper lip, another to the tip of his nose, and this time, Bucky’s face warms for sweeter reasons.

His cheeks still hurt, hot and sharp, and he knows they’ll be swollen for hours, bruised from Steve’s strength.

“Go ahead,” his Steve says, but he’s not speaking to Bucky.

That second cock presses against him again, trying to make its way inside, and Bucky can’t beg this time, can barely whine as he desperately drags air into his burning lungs.

 _Won’t fit_ , is his first thought, every muscle in him tense as the pressure at his hole grows impossibly bigger.

“You can take it,” says a voice at his ear, low and strained, nearly a growl. “Open up, honey.”

He doesn’t wait for Bucky to open up, just pries him obscenely wide, cock carving inch after inch out of his clenching muscles. Bucky’s not made for this, _no one_ is; one Steve’s a rough enough stretch, this is murder, and Bucky’s frozen for them, pathetic noises punched out of him with every minute twitch of either Steve’s hips.

There’s a hand stroking his hair, another on his shoulder, even more wandering aimlessly over his chest and back, all of them soft and soothing, but this isn’t soft and Bucky’s not soothed, stretched to breaking and made to take it.

He can’t breathe, god, Steve’s still pushing, and the other Steve’s moving, and they’re sliding in him, deep and deeper and out and in, and Bucky can’t breathe, he’s so fucking _full_ —

The restraints on his arms fall away. Bucky dimly registers that they were torn off, the metal broken by hands not his own, and that’s important because he’s not supposed to break them, not unless he wants this to stop, and he doesn’t want this to stop; it hurts and it’s too much and he’s breaking, but he doesn’t want it to stop, wants the heat and the pressure and the pain, wants _everything_ , and his hands are free and they’re being tugged to the side, and fuck, there’s a dick in both of them, longer fingers curling over his own, folding flesh and metal over the pulsing girths in his grasp.

They use him the way they want, his ass, his hands, and he’s sore and brimming with things that have no release, and it’s easy, in the end, to shut his mind and give in, no thought, just feeling, warmth and wetness, plunging pain and pleasure.

Wet heat lands on his right hand, and he’s led through strokes that milk the last of it out of Steve’s softening cock. The ones inside him cease moving for a second, and they’re speaking, words Bucky doesn’t hear, and then they’re moving again, and Bucky’s allowed to rest both hands on one Steve’s barrel-like chest, clinging to the tensed muscles while the two drill into him, fucking him fast and frantic until he’s open and _numb_ , ass eating up their cocks like he was born for it.

The come soaking his walls and dripping down his thighs barely make him twitch, but the gag being removed—again—does.

The blindfold follows.

Bucky keeps his eyes shut tight and doesn’t dare open them even when he’s empty and made to lie on his back, the sheets cool under his skin after the scorching heat of the Steves’ skin.

The click of the lock is very soft, but it’s impossible for Bucky to miss, even in the state he’s in. Hands stroke along his thighs and stomach afterward, the touch gentle and soothing, but Bucky’s cock is a red-hot pulse as it fills with blood.

“Hurts,” he whimpers, clawing weakly at the sheets.

“Look at me, Buck.”

Bucky opens his eyes. It’s Steve, _his_ Steve, hovering over Bucky, beautiful and golden. He’s so bright that Bucky has to close his eyes, but Steve coaxes them back open with sweet, whisper-soft kisses all over his face. Bucky feels warm down to his soul when he peers up at Steve, greedily drinking in those familiar, well-loved features. The others are around, heartbeats pressing gently in on Bucky, but he can’t spare them a glance when Steve’s looming in his world.

It's a good moment, soft and quiet, and Bucky doesn’t see it coming until Steve’s already between his legs, raising Bucky’s hips with one arm and sliding right in.

Bucky cries out.

Steve fills him in a single thrust, and the aching arousal that Bucky somehow forgot rushes back with a vengeance, tearing through his veins as his body’s wrecked by Steve’s thrusts. Bucky shudders and clenches and doesn’t say a single word, too far gone to speak, all of him narrowed down to the violent pulse of his cock.

He comes, sudden and hard and painful, and it isn’t relief that floods his veins but a barrage of sharp sensation. Bucky keens through it, his back bowed, body at an angle that just lets Steve fuck him faster, harder, until it’s like Bucky didn’t come at all, the tension in him ratcheting up to something edged and insane.

“Ha—haven’t you—”

Steve’s cock slides along his prostate, a hard, hot pressure, and Bucky cuts off with a wounded cry.

“What?” Steve asks without easing up, and his voice is deep and wrecked with want, but it’s still got a thread of control in it, and he’s using it to ruin Bucky.

“Haven’t—you—ha—had— _enough_?” Bucky sobs, forcing the words out through gritted teeth, each one rattling his bones.

Steve’s grin is more of a snarl, wide and wild.

“Never gonna get enough of you, sweetheart. Could fuck you forever and still be wantin’ more.”

And there’s something heady about it, Steve’s easy conviction and his bared teeth, and Bucky gasps his name, blood thrumming as the need that wasn’t allowed to fade flares hot and electric.

Steve _speeds_ _up_ , and Bucky’s screaming, cursing, begging, nails tearing bloody grooves down Steve’s back and teeth sinking in through the soft give of his own lip, Steve fucks him through it, rough and sharp and searing, until the heat spills over and Bucky’s mind goes white.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a line if you can <3


End file.
